


Retrouvailles

by Schmuzz



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fake AH Crew, Fluff, M/M, One Shot Collection, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2018-04-02
Packaged: 2019-02-01 14:20:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12706737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schmuzz/pseuds/Schmuzz
Summary: There is a special kind of elation that belongs to a homecoming. It is the rediscovery of the things and people you love; a reunion of the heart.-A new and improved set of short myan stories for you to read!





	1. Jury Duty

**Author's Note:**

> From this ask: Can you imagine if one day Michael gets called into Jury duty ("Jury duty! I'm a fucking hitman, Geoff! I rob banks for a living!") But he begrudgingly goes because they're not heisting due to a certain Vagabond going missing and sits on those hard seats and watches as the court gets ready. And after half an hour of waiting, they bring in the defendant. Its Ryan. Ryan, who went missing months ago without even a single goodbye kiss. He spots Michael and suddenly all the anger disappears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, welcome back. I've already done an anthology of (mostly) myan stories that I've written on my tumblr, but I wanted to do another one, so I wouldn't stick readers with an 80+ chaptered story to wade through. And this time around I'm going to be a little more discerning on what ficlets make their way over here, as well as editing them slightly if they need it to, say, make sense outside of the original format.
> 
> If you want to check out my original work or send me a prompt, check out my blog, teamcrazydicks on tumblr!

Sitting there on the hard wooden bench in the court room, Michael had to fight not to cry. He swallowed, twisted his hands, bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. But if anyone were to turn their head and look, he would appear normal, fitting in beside every other jury member beside him. He knew he had to be stony and cold for this, and while acting and improv had never been his strong suits - those were _Ryan's_ skills - he did his best, blending in as best he could.

But Ryan saw him, of course he did. Icy blue eyes locked on him for a moment before drifting off, taking in the rest of the court room before him. He looked tired. There was no paint to hide his face and with just skin showing, he looks like a normal man. 

A man on trial for robbing a jewelry store and shooting down two police helicopters, then going on a high speed chase on the night of January 14th - Michael remembers that day; what had meant to be a five point heist had turned into a mess of gunfire, bodies, nearly getting caught. When Ryan hadn’t made it back, Michael had broken into more morgues than he could remember just to see is if there were any accounts of the other’s body showing up. But instead there had been silence from the news outlets, from his contacts, from anything and anywhere. 

And here the other man was. Alive and well and in handcuffs. 

Careful that no one was looking at him, Michael tugged his phone out of his pocket, started texting. Frantic messages to Geoff, Jack, anyone who would listen to him.  _‘I’m on trial for Ryan! I don’t have guns. COME AND GET US’ ._ Luckily the rest of the jurors were too engrossed in the proceedings or to apathetic about Michael breaking his sworn American duty or whatever the fuck.

Michael spent forty minutes in agony, checking his phone, the bailiffs, trying to avoid Ryan as the lawyer he had been given droned on and on about self defense and remorse and other bullshit. Whoever that guy was trying to defend, it definitely wasn’t Ryan. 

Just before the Judge announced a brief recess, the doors of the courtroom were kicked open. Michael hadn’t been on the defenseless side in a while, but he hopped over the bench and onto the courtroom floor, knocking out the bailiff who was running towards Ryan with a heavy punch to the side of his face. He stumbled with the force behind it, and when he turned to face Ryan again Jeremy's already there, grabbing Ryan by the arm and forcing him outside. 

“Move! He’s getting up!” Michael said, eyeing the bailiff over the shoulder. 

“I’m with Gavin,” Jeremy replied, shoving Ryan in Michael’s direction. “Get him out of here.” He shoots the officer before he can even reach for his gun, and Michael starts running, pulling Ryan alongside him, shoved the pair of them into the backseat of whatever stolen car Geoff was manning today. 

“Can we fucking get out of here?” he yelled, slamming the door shut. He catches a glimpse of his boss’s face in the rear view mirror before he and Ryan are forced against the seats, speeding away. Michael finally takes a good, long look at the man sitting next to him. 

“What the fuck, Ryan?!” he screamed. “How the fuck did you just get arrested - why didn’t you fucking tell us?”

“Well, as you said, i was arrested.”

“What about your one phone call?” 

“I… was trying to pull a favor. The guy didn’t hold up his end of the deal. I might want to settle that, later.” He fiddles with the handcuffs he’s still in. “Thanks for getting everyone to rescue my ass.” 

“Heists weren’t the same without you, buddy,” Geoff spoke up, taking a sharp turn that made Michael slam up against Ryan’s body. He smelt like cheap soap, and the orange uniform he had was thin and scratchy. “I think we can get back to Michael’s apartment without the police noticing.”

“Provided you can sneak in a prisoner?”

“Former prisoner,” Michael said reflexively. “And for the love of God, Ryan, next time…” He looked up at the other’s face and felt his mouth go dry. What could he say, here and now, with Geoff a few feet away and the police still looking for them? “Don’t do it again,” he finished, lamely, pulling back to his side and buckling his seat belt. 


	2. Lapdance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this ask: Michael giving ryan a lap dance. imagine ryan trying to sit still as michael rocks his hips back and forth on his lap because michael won't let him touch. he has to sit and enjoy the show. and it's such a struggle, and his fingers are twitching at his sides and he's clenching his jaw from how much he wants to touch michael.

Ryan was going to lose his goddamn mind. He had Michael in his lap, just wearing a pair of ridiculously tight boxer briefs and a fucking smirk, doing his best to be the living, breathing definition of provocative. 

 _And he couldn’t even touch him._  

“You hate me,” he said, and he couldn't keep the desperate, whining tone from his voice. He also couldn't help the full body shiver that went through him when Michael’s hips nudged against his. He was moving so  _slowly_ , arms thrown carelessly around Ryan’s shoulders, caressing the back of his neck and sinking his fingers into locks of his hair. He was intimately close, and Ryan could only strain his wrists fruitlessly behind his back where Michael had tied them up with his belt. 

“I don’t hate you,” Michael said. Ryan focused in on the other’s mouth, red and wet, all the words that came out of it heavy with euphemisms. A filthy mouth, really, and he couldn’t even kiss it, bite at Michael’s lips until he gasped, _use it to -_  “I’m giving you a lap dance.”

Ryan grunted, grit his teeth. “You tied me up!”

“You let me tie you up.” One of Michael’s hands ran down Ryan’s chest and he leaned close to his ear. “And you’re not supposed to touch me, anyway, that's how this works.” Ryan groaned, feeling Michael’s fingers running down his thighs, ghosting past the conspicuous bulge in his jeans. “...But I can touch you all I want.” 

He pulled helplessly against his bonds again. “Oh, fuck.” 

“Do you like when I touch you, Ryan?” Michael asked, pulling his head back and looking at the other man, eyes dark and lidded. His hand squeezed Ryan’s cock through his pants. 

“Yeah,”

Michael rolled his hips, grinding his crotch down against Ryan’s and pulling a small moan from him. Ryan looked down, watching Michael rub up against him in that same sensual, slow pace. His eyes fluttered shut when Michael reached down and unbuttoned his pants. 

Suddenly Michael’s forefinger was under his chin, playfully prompting him; “Do you want me to keep touching you?” Ryan would have argued that the answer was obvious, but he could practically feel his dick leaking precome. He wasn’t even close to being in control right now.

“Yes, please,” 

“Hmm,” Ryan stared up at Michael, trying not to tremble when he felt Michael trace along the waistband of his underwear. “I don’t know…” 

“Please, Michael, I’ll - I’ll be good, promise,” he stuttered out, feeling a flush rush along his cheeks. 

“Oh, will you?” Ryan nodded. What else could he do?

Michael smiled at that and leaned forward, giving Ryan a kiss before sliding off of him, standing up. “W-what -” Ryan panted, confused and reeling from the loss of contact. Even so, he found himself complying when Michael nudged him forward, towards the edge of the chair he was tied to. Michael hiked a leg over Ryan's, but didn't sit down, instead balancing on the seat, towering over Ryan. From this angle, it was impossible to ignore how Michael was already hard. 

“You said you’d be good,” Michael explained, teasingly pulling his underwear down until he freed his cock. He started stroking himself languidly, grabbing the back of Ryan’s head with his free hand. “You made a promise, Ryan...”

Ryan squirmed in his seat, feeling his own length twitch desperately, still constrained by his clothes. As Michael leaned in, Ryan let his mouth fall open, looking up at the other man as he traced Ryan’s lips with the head of his cock. “I just want to make sure you can keep it.” And when he started thrusting into Ryan’s mouth, he didn’t even think of fighting it.


	3. (Surprisingly) Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this prompt: Michael and Ryan already being in a relationship and everyone thinks that Ryan wouldn't like to kiss or cuddle in public at first because he seems so hard faced and everything but when they find Michael tucked into Ryan's body and Ryan petting his hair they are Pretty surprised.

As the Crew got bigger, Geoff knew that there were certain things he couldn’t prevent - the general mayhem of six (or more) criminals in the same penthouse lent itself to certain allowances. He was prepared for drunken mishaps, gun fights, arguments, the works.

But one thing Geoff didn’t expect to do? Give two of his members his blessing in their newfound romantic relationship. 

It wasn't like he was against it, even if it seemed to come out of nowhere. Michael and Ryan were arguably the two most chaotic and wild of the group, and they got along fine, but that didn't exactly mean they were destined to be together. They seemed so, well,  _different._ Not that Geoff ever told them that to their faces; he wasn't a complete asshole.

At least Gavin had been as blindsided as he was, and happy enough to gossip about them to Geoff when they weren't around. “I mean, Michael is my boi, you know? And I don’t have anything against Ryan, but - he’s a bit too serious, don’t you think?” The pair of them had gone out to get coffee from a nearby cafe, and the topic of conversation had settled on Michael and Ryan, still being the hot gossip of their group. “The only time he cracks jokes is when it’s about someone’s skull getting bashed in, or something.”

“I mean, Michael’s a big boy, he can handle a little stoicism,” Geoff countered, though he’d by lying if he said Gavin didn’t have a point. There was gallows humor, and then there was the twisted, macabre stuff Ryan found funny. And beyond the odd quip, Ryan never seemed like the cuddly type. Sometimes, Geoff kind of forgot he was a person with a daily routine who needed to eat and sleep and unwind. He rarely saw Ryan doing those things in the penthouse. Did Michael see another side to him that no one else did?

They got back into the apartment building and wandered to the elevator. “Michael’s sensitive, deep down. Deep, deep,  _deep_ down. I don’t want him getting stuck with a bad partner, you know? Especially ‘cause we all work together.”

“Well, what’s worse - them acting like they’re not involved, or walking in on them fucking on the living room sofa twice a week?” As he said that, the elevator doors opened and Geoff could make out Michael and Ryan’s heads - the pair of them situated together on the sofa. “Oh, Jesus Christ,” he whispered.

Gavin and Geoff crept over, Geoff inwardly cringing at what they might see, only to see the full view of the couch and see that Michael was asleep, nuzzled up against Ryan’s side, face peaceful and body totally relaxed. The older man had an arm around Michael’s back, and his other hand was loosely holding onto the television remote, lazily flipping channels. Ryan seemed to become aware of their presence and looked over at them, nodding in acknowledgement. 

Geoff was content to leave it at that, but Gavin, the monster, quickly walked behind the couch, hovering over Michael. Ryan was glaring at him in warning, but before he could do anything more to dissuade the younger man, Gavin was shaking Michael awake, laughing to himself as Michael groaned and batted his hands away. 

“What the fuck,” Michael grumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Jesus - was that Gavin?” Gavin’s amused laughter was answer enough, and Michael, still bleary-eyed, was about to round on the other when Ryan carefully tugged Michael back down. Geoff wondered who Michael would decide to focus his tired rage on first - Gavin for waking him or Ryan for trying to control him.

Instead Michael merely flipped Gavin off and laid down, his head in Ryan’s lap. “Rye-bread, you didn’t protect me,” he mumbled, already closing his eyes.

“Sorry, I didn’t think Gavin was actually gonna wake you up.” One of Ryan’s hands reached down and carded through Michael’s curls. “Just go back to sleep.” 

Michael cracked an eye open and grabbed at Ryan’s free hand, pressing a kiss to his palm before entangling their fingers and letting it rest on his chest. “Okay,” he said, eyes drifting shut again. Michael didn't even seem to notice that Geoff was there.

Geoff watched the whole thing with his mouth agape. Had he stepped into some weird bizarro world? “You two are so different now that you’re together,” Gavin said, putting into words what Geoff was thinking. He walked back over to Geoff, frowning at the pair of them. “It’s so weird. Like a proper couple and stuff.”

“Yeah it is weird,” Geoff agreed. Michael cracked an eye open, staring at the pair of them with some level of disdain and exhaustion. 

Ryan looked at Gavin. “We're not that different. We’re still going to make Gavin regret waking Michael up.” Geoff noticed that he and Michael had sharp, matching grins on their faces, making Gavin’s own countenance go pale before he whipped out of the room. Ryan’s gaze then flicked to Geoff’s. “I hope he knows hiding won’t help him. We know where he sleeps, after all.”

"He won't know what hit 'im," Michael added, yawning. 

“God, you guys are two creepy motherfuckers,” Geoff said, fondly. Ryan’s returning smile morphed into something just as affectionate, and Geoff left the pair of them to do… whatever cute shit they felt like, his heart a little lighter now that he realized the two of them  _did_ have hearts. Deep, deep down.

(Of course Geoff’s original comment came to fruition - apparently walking in on Michael and Ryan had a fifty-fifty split of them being completely domestic and besotted with one another, or catching them with their pants down in the most compromising positions imaginable. Never a dull moment as a gang leader, he supposed.) 


	4. Shiver and Shake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the prompt: hc that Michael has really squirmy orgasms and he will practically shake in Ryan's grip and he holds onto Ryan's hand/arms to keep himself together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when this message came to me, hc = head canon hadn't really reached my awareness as a common acronym yet, so I thought this prompt meant for me to make it a hurt/comfort story (I know, I know, lmao).

The first time they had sex, like actual, ‘we came back from dinner early because we kept  _looking_ at each other and weren’t going to make it through dessert’ full fledged sex, Ryan nearly threw up.

He thought he had read all the signs right; he and Michael had been dating for three months, and he really  _liked_ him, and he could have sworn Michael wanted this. They had fumbled around before, not quite going all the way even if Michael had hinted a few times that he had enjoyed getting fucked before. So, Ryan figured they were on the same page, when they got to Ryan's place and had to struggle to pull away from each other's mouths long enough to get up the stairs to the bedroom, teasing laughter and long looks shared between them.

Ryan had _thought_ everything was fine. But maybe Michael wasn’t ready, maybe he was having regrets, because as soon as he came into Ryan’s fist, his moans went straight into whimpers, and his body began to shake and squirm, a hand pounding at Ryan’s back, nails digging hard into skin. It was as if any pleasure he felt was suddenly cut off with his orgasm, and he snapped back to his senses, his senses being ‘ _stop stop, get the fuck off of me.’_ All of Ryan's arousal morphed into an icy fear, and he had quickly slipped out, pulled away, all the while fighting down a wave of nausea that he had stepped over a line, that he hurt Michael. He turned away, not wanting to see Michael in that state - one that he caused. 

Not long after he moved to the other side of the mattress, Michael seemed to calm down, and soon he was just breathing harshly. “R-Ryan?” he stuttered, and he hazarded a glance at Michael’s face. “Are you okay?”

“Am I - Michael, I’m so sorry, I didn’t meant to; I, I thought you wanted to. To…” He couldn’t even say it. What sort of asshole was he? Not even admitting that he had stepped over Michael’s boundaries, even though the actual word for what he did was pounding in his head.

Michael looked up, furrowed his brow. “What, make me come so hard I almost rolled off the bed?” That gave Ryan pause, and he studied Michael more closely. There was no sign of distress in his body now. He was laying peacefully against Ryan’s pillows, thighs still spread a little, looking a bit flushed but none the worse for wear. 

“B-But you, you were shaking and making these noises and, it just… you never did that before. I got so scared that I did something I shouldn’t have.” He reached a hand out, hesitating long enough that Michael grabbed it and tugged Ryan down so he could drape himself over his body. Michael sighed, rubbed Ryan's back. 

“That’s just how I come when, uh, you know, it’s really good,” he supplied, turning a little pinker. “Told you I liked getting fucked, you know. I didn’t scare you, did I?”

“You did,” Ryan admitted, kissing Michael’s chest before resting his head there. “But if you say you’re fine then I believe you. I just… I never want to hurt you, Michael.”

“I know you don't.” he said, "you wouldn't." He felt Michael's thumb stroking over the back of his neck, slow and even. Eventually Ryan relaxed enough to close his eyes; Michael was _fine,_ they were fine. Still, he put his arms around Michael as best he could, holding him tight.

After a minute, Michael spoke up again. “Do you, uh, want to go again? If I scared you that bad you probably didn’t have a very satisfying  _ending._ ” Ryan could just imagine the smirk on Michael's face, and it made him smile against his sternum. Even so, he honestly didn't want to try round two just yet.

“No, I’m okay. Wouldn’t mind staying like this for a while with you.” He felt Michael nod, and they both laid together, slipping into a quiet reverie.

The next time they had sex - a week later, also after a rushed date - Ryan’s ready for it. Michael _wants_ this, and his boyfriend proves it with every kiss, every moan, every touch. And when Ryan strokes his cock, supporting him with a hand on his back while Michael sits in his lap, taking him to the hilt with nearly every thrust, he knows that it’s all right.

And when Michael does come, quivering, voice breaking high and eyes going wide and watery, Ryan keeps touching him, keeps kissing him, and whispers, “That’s it, Michael, keep going for me, need you to be good and let go…” he realizes that they’re both getting exactly what they need.


	5. First Kiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the prompt: First kiss

It was their third date, Ryan reminded himself. He was, traditionally speaking, allowed to ask on the third date. 

Michael Jones was a friend of a friend of a friend. Not exactly the most promising of blind date options, but as Jack pointed out, he had been divorced for more than a year, separated for longer than that, and he was fucking thirty-four. He was  _not_ getting a tindr account. So Jack had told him about an employee slash buddy of one of his friends, they exchanged numbers and went out to get coffee together. 

Then they went to lunch and a movie together, and now it was dinner at a pretty nice place, and Ryan was more than a little worried about how much he  _liked_ Michael already. 

He was younger, by about six years. Honestly if Jack had told him that right off the bat, he might have refused the whole thing, but it hardly fazed him now. It wasn’t that Michael was wise beyond his years - he looked and acted like a twenty something year old. But he was competent enough to own a house, and had nearly gotten married around the time that Ryan was finalizing his own divorce. The work he did allowed a lot of career opportunities and travel, but nothing that would actually uproot him from Austin. 

Not to mention that he got Ryan to laugh and blush so easily; he never made Ryan feel older by comparison; even if he accidentally got too personal with his stories, Michael never seemed to mind. It already felt like they had known each other for years, like they were best friends or something. But Ryan wanted more.

After dinner, Ryan drove Michael home. The younger man had a few beers, but it only manifested in a permanent flush across his cheeks. When he parked in the driveway, he turned to look at him. “I had a great time tonight,” he said. 

“Even when that waiter kept forcing the wine list on you?” Ryan laughed.

“Well, you managed to scare him off for me.”

“Yeah, but then we had to wait like twenty minutes for him to come back with the check!” Ryan waved his hand dismissively. 

“Hey, more time for us to talk, right?” The younger man hummed in agreement, before reaching down and unbuckling his seat belt. “Hey, Michael?” 

“Yeah? What’s up?” Ryan bit the inside of his cheek, feeling a sense of nervousness that he hadn’t experienced in years. Michael was staring at him, eyes dark, his lips pink. He was wearing his glasses today - sometimes he went with contacts, he mentioned on their first date, but he didn’t mind his glasses either - the thin wire frames perched on his nose. He was… Ryan couldn’t think of a good way to describe him. “Something wrong?” Michael asked after a pause. 

“Can I kiss you?” Ryan blurted out. He felt the back of his neck heat up. Michael stared at him, mouth slowly working itself into a smile.  _Oh God,_  Ryan thought frantically, trying not to look at his date. _He’s going to laugh at me and I’ll just have to sit here and watch him do it._

Ryan nearly jumped when Michael put a hand on his cheek. “I thought you’d never ask,” he murmured, leaning in for a kiss. Ryan was still running on confused and embarrassed autopilot, but he managed to wrap a hand around the back of Michael’s neck, slowly pressing a chaste kiss to Michael’s lips. He pulled back maybe an inch, saw the other’s dark eyes and partially open mouth, and leaned forward again, deepening the kiss until Michael had his arms wrapped around him, and Ryan’s other hand was holding Michael’s hip, thumb rubbing circles into the skin right above his slacks. Pressed this close he could smell Michael’s shampoo, feel his warmth right under his hands and his mouth. When he pulled back, Michael’s flush had darkened, and he licked his lips as though chasing Ryan’s taste.

“I have to admit,” he said, sliding his arms down so they slung low on Ryan’s back. “I thought you were gonna be the traditional type. You know, kiss on the third date and stuff.”

“Well, I am,” Ryan admitted sheepishly.

“Yeah but,” It was hard for Ryan to concentrate on what Michael was saying. He felt so soft and warm and  _right_ pressed against him, finding a comfortable way to hold onto him despite the gear shift between them and the fact that Ryan still had his seat belt on. “I didn’t expect you to kiss me like  _that_.” 

Ryan smiled and granted Michael one more peck on the lips. “I really wanted to kiss you. I hope I can do it again soon.” Michael grinned.

“Well it’s Saturday night… why don’t you swing by my place tomorrow around noon and we can do some movie marathon thing on my couch.”

“Are we going to be watching movies, by any chance?” 

“We’ll watch  _a_ movie. Half of one, at least,” he teased. “Goodnight Ryan,” and with that he slipped away, getting out of Ryan’s car and heading up to his house. Ryan watched Michael fish out his keys and unlock the door, blushing despite himself when Michael blows a kiss at him before slipping inside. 

God, Michael was just… he was just perfect.


	6. Drinks to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the prompt: Michael and Ryan meeting each other in a packed club? Michael got ditched by Jeremy and Gavin (Who let's face it are probably off mackin' in the bathroom) and Michael happens to get pushed right into Ryan's chest as he tries to navigate himself off the dance floor toward a bar of any kind- or something similar :)!

After five minutes passed and neither Jeremy nor Gavin appeared from the bathroom, Michael was beginning to think he was on his own. He let out a long sigh, which went unheard between the yelling customers and thumping, bass-heavy music; when the pair of them invited him anywhere he knew it was only a matter of time before he turned into a third wheel. Michael wasn’t sure if they were so far up each other’s asses that they couldn’t keep their hands off each other for ten minutes… or if this was their way of encouraging him to ‘get back out there’ after his last messy breakup. 

Michael had maintained that it was too soon to think about that sort of thing, but Gavin helpfully reminded him it had been three months, six months, nine…

Alright, so he had officially spent more time single than the original relationship had even lasted, and he hadn’t done anything about it, aside from a few first and second dates that didn’t really go anywhere. Whatever, Jeremy and Gavin ditching blow each other in the bathroom was still a shitty move.

Michael accepted he was stuck at the club - Gavin would have whined if he tapped out any earlier than midnight, so he huffed out a frustrated sigh and resolved himself to moving through the expansive dance floor to get to the bar on the other side.

He made it halfway before the DJ put on some supremely popular, fast paced remix of some summer hit or whatever, and it was a struggle to not get jostled or shoved to the floor. Fuck, he hated clubs. He couldn’t meet anyone in clubs. He stumbled this way and that, wrinkling his nose every time some stranger’s sweat-soaked body part smacked into his stomach or shoulder or head. 

One girl even reached out and grabbed him, a big, drunk smile on her face as she tried to get him to dance with her. And normally, if the night out hadn’t been so obviously a ploy by his friends to get him to sleep with someone, and he knew that they hadn’t left to go make out somewhere, he would have joined her, but instead he scowled and wrenched his hand back, hard. 

Hard enough that he was sent careening into the suddenly empty space around him, feet stumbling and hands splayed out to break his fall.

Which was against the broad chest of some guy much bigger than him. He swallowed, hoping the other man wasn’t going to take that as an invitation to start swinging.

“Sorry, man,” he said immediately, looking up. It was hard to make out features on the dance floor - the vibrant colors and darkness that flashed around them sending the man’s face into a neon chiaroscuro. He was a little older, with hair swept back along his brow and pressed against his head from the heat. His eyes were looking down at Michael, an eyebrow quirked as if silently demanding an explanation for barreling into him. Michael opened his mouth to give him one, but the temporary lack of people in their immediate vicinity was replaced by a rush of dancing, jumping bodies, and instead the stranger tugged Michael’s upper arms and steadied him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice deep but also concerned. Maybe. They could barely hear each other.

“Yeah, just passing through,” Michael pointed to the bar, hoping to get his point across.

“Oh. Me too. Come on,” He was being tugged again, and Michael braced himself for being smacked or accidentally kicked by the crowd, but the man in front of him was successfully clearing a path for the pair of them, and with Michael trailing directly behind him, he was granted a rare, protective barrier he never had the pleasure of possessing before in a place like this. It was obviously just a friendly gesture, but it made a warm feeling of appreciation press against Michael’s chest.

They finally cleared the throng of dancers, smiling at one another for a moment in shared relief as they walked further towards the bar. “Thanks,” Michael said. His eyes tracked towards a small empty space at the counter where they could stand. “Are you, uh, meeting someone?” he asked.

“Me? Nah,” Michael settled against the sticky wooden table and was strangely pleased when the other man followed suit. He had been set on having a miserable time until Gavin and Jeremy showed up to collect him or he got back home. Instead he ordered a Moscow Mule and turned to the stranger. “Do you want anything? My treat for rescuing me back there.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble,” At Michael’s insistence, he meekly changed his answer to a Diet Coke.

“Really?” Michael asked, pulling out his wallet.

“I don’t drink. I am kind of dying of thirst though, so thanks. Don’t know where my friends got to.” Michael took a sip of his drink and handed the other man his own.

“You too? Why do our friends suck?” the other laughed, trying to crush the complimentary lemon slice further into his drink with a straw.

“I think they want us to meet new people. I mean, I want to tell them, it’ll happen eventually, back off, but they just don’t get it.”

“Believe me, I know what you mean.” Michael took another sip, looking out at the crowd and finding no one he recognized. “Well, we met each other.”

“We ran into each other, really,” Ryan said, but he was leaning closer to Michael than was strictly necessary, even considering how crowded and loud the bar was. “I don’t even know your name.”

“Michael,” he said matter-of-factly. “I’m Michael Jones.”

“I’m Ryan.”

“Does this Ryan have a last name?”

“This Ryan does. He also has a phone number… unless that’s too forward.”

Michael could tell he was smiling hard enough for his dimples to show. “Nah, that’s just fine. Here’s to meeting new people -” He held his cup up and Ryan dutifully clinked their drinks together. “Maybe our friends aren’t so bad after all.” 

"Yeah, but we can't  _tell_ them that."

"Oh, hell no."


	7. Keep You Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the prompt: "Why? Because I don't want you to get hurt, that's why!" with my old myan demon au (basically, Michael is a human who summons Ryan, an incubus and also a prince of hell, and goes to hell to become his pet).

Michael frowned at himself in the mirror, twisting the cloak he was wearing this way and that, trying to find a way to drape the admittedly sheer material so that it was tantalizing without actually showing off his junk. All the demons in Ryan’s palace didn’t have any desire to wear clothes, but he hadn’t been in hell quite so long as to be used to the idea himself. In fact, the only reason why he was wearing this little was because he wanted to fit in.

There was a party going on tonight, Ryan had said. A lot of demonic royalty, or - well, Michael wasn’t sure if they were  _royalty._ Something about the other princes of hell coming by. Michael didn’t bother to ask if there were princesses, dukes, kings and queens of hell or anything. The point was, it sounded interesting, especially when Ryan told him he was not to attend.

Michael left the bed chamber and crept along the hallway, heading towards the throne room where the sound of music, cheers, dancing abounded. He just wanted to see what it was about. And besides, Ryan telling him he  _couldn’t_ go was pretty much all the encouragement he needed to go against his commands. 

The noise reached a crescendo when Michael passed from the entrance hall into the throne room. It seemed brighter and more festive than before. Scarlet and gold tapestries, balls of light for illumination. It all mimicked the fire and brimstone of hell, and within, its legions were reveling in some sort of celebration. Talking and dancing - no one stood still, a mass of demonic creatures in varying states of dress and monstrous form. 

Even though Michael had just wanted a peek of the goings on, with the crowds moving the way there were, it was inevitable that someone bumped into him. He instinctively met their eyes; a succubus was towering over him. She had dark maroon skin and large, curling horns that twisted into the air. She had on something resembling a gown, and an expression on her face that very much resembled someone who couldn’t wait to devour what had just been set down in front of them. 

“A human! Are you part of tonight’s… entertainment?” She gripped Michael’s chin with two deft fingers. Her nails were sharp. Other demons were staring at them.

“I’m, uh - Ryan’s? Human.” He swallowed. “You know, the one who… lives here. The host?” He heard murmuring behind him, and what felt like the tips of claws ghosting across his backside. Despite the heat of the room, his skin broke out in goosebumps. 

“Ryan’s human,” she drawled. “Now that is interesting. I didn’t realize he  _had_ a human.”

“I mean he probably has a - a whole bunch of them that he keeps somewhere.” Michael honestly wasn’t sure if that was a joke or not. 

The succubus didn’t comment on that, instead glancing up, meeting eyes with some other guests that he couldn’t see. “It’s rather peculiar,” she said, blatantly addressing people out of Michael’s line of vision, “that a prince gets a new pet just as he’s being met with demands to find a consort. Don’t you think?” He heard more distinct voices now, but either they were speaking some sort of demonic language, or he couldn’t hear words properly over the frantic beating of his own heart.

The demons’ fingers shifted down around his throat, and he squeaked.

“That’s enough,” a familiar voice spoke up to his left. He twisted to see - just as the succubus’ hand fell away - and found Ryan. Large and powerful and  _familiar._ He tried not to outright run to his side, but he still let out a small sigh of relief once his shoulder bumped against the other’s chest. “Continue the festivities. My companion and I have something to discuss.” 

There were countless eyes on him now, as Ryan steered the pair of them back the way he had entered. It was silent the entire trip back to their bed chamber. Michael may have described the atmosphere as icy, but he’d take a pissed off Ryan to anyone else in that throne room any day.

As soon as they crossed the threshold, The door to the room slammed shut with a flick of Ryan’s finger. Michael flinched at the noise and the stern expression on the demon’s face. “What were you doing down there?” Ryan asked. His eyes glowed eerily in the dim light of the room. “I am almost certain I told you not to be at that party tonight.”

“I was… curious, I guess?” Michael winced at the flimsy reasoning. “You’re a demon, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you understand how tempting humans work? You tell us not to do something -”

“- And I had expected that you would have had the instinctual survival skills necessary to not mess around with other demons,” Ryan hissed. “What would you have done if I hadn’t gotten to you in time?” 

Michael very purposefully did not go down that particular mental road. “It’s not like you explained  _why_ I couldn’t go,” he managed.

“Why? Because I don’t want you to get  _hurt_ , that’s why.” 

Michael blinked. “They wouldn’t have hurt me. Would they?” He thought of what the succubus has been talking about. “They just sounded jealous.”

“Whatever they sounded like, the truth is - they’re power hungry.” Ryan sighed, walking towards the bed and sitting down on the edge. Michael cautiously approached him. “I’m not… incredibly old, by Prince of Hell standards.” 

“Could’ve fooled me,” Ryan snorted. “So you’re young enough to - to need a consort?” 

He nodded. “It’s a big commitment,”

“What, no divorce court in hell?”

“There actually isn’t. And to become properly joined, you have to bond your… I suppose you might call it a soul, together. Two essences, life force, the source of all your magic and knowledge. Conjoined forever.”

Michael blinked. “Yeah, okay. That is kind of a big deal. So are you just… waiting for the right demon?” Ryan shook his head, a frown on his face.

“I’m trying not to  _die,_ Michael. There is a very finite number of Princes. A lot of demons see me as an in to greater power, not that I blame them. Only… we’re not the most loyal, are we? Hedonistic and recklessly ambitious does not mesh well with an eternal marriage of beings. And there have been a few,” Ryan grimaced, “cases of one half of a bond being murdered by their other half. Through magic or some other means.” 

“Holy shit. And you think that those demons thought you - thought we were…?”

Ryan looked over at Michael, a sad smile on his face. “I think that hell is a dangerous place. For both of us, especially after tonight.” Michael felt a weight in his stomach. Maybe Ryan had brought him to hell for fun, or to get some weight off his back, but if other demons thought that he was a potential consort - “Michael,” Ryan spoke softly. His previous anger had vanished, and he stretched out an arm, bidding his human closer. Michael couldn’t help but put himself under Ryan’s arm, pressing into the warmth of his body. Usually, when the two of them were together, Ryan took on a slightly more human appearance - or sometimes that snake form of his - but now he felt completely dwarfed by the incubus. It made him feel safe, at least, the way that Ryan held him so carefully. “I promise that the moment things get too risky, I will take you back to earth. I’ll keep you safe. It’s my fault you’re here, after all.” 

Michael took Ryan’s hand, entangling their fingers. “If I’m remembering right, I’m pretty sure it was a mutually assured destruction type of thing going on.” Ryan smiled, pressing a kiss to his hair. “This is still better than where you found me, you know?” 

“And you still deserve so much better.” Michael didn’t comment, wasn’t sure if Ryan was being serious or not. The worried knot in his stomach was now replaced by a fluttering lightness. That was an improvement, at least. “As much as I hate to do this, I should go back. I’ll enchant the door so no one can enter besides us.”

“Sure, that’s fine. Um,” Michael bit his lip. “Can we just, uh. Maybe stay like this? Just for another minute.” Ryan pressed closer to his side, dropping another kiss to his hair.

“Of course.”


	8. Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a sentence prompt: "You're mine, I don't share." I basically made a Supernatural-esque au. Ryan is a morally nebulous vampire who saved Michael, a hunter, and turned him into a ghoul. They travel around taking down supernatural creatures and there might be some unresolved sexual tension too.

Michael dumped his bag on the floor as soon as he got through the motel room door. He didn’t bother casting a look behind him to see if Ryan had followed, instead falling onto the mattress with a small ‘omph’. A second later he heard the door close and latch. 

Michael wasn’t quite deep enough into the hippy-dippy shit to believe in stuff like ‘auras’, but in the past few months of working with Ryan, he did have to come back the notion that maybe there was some truth to that sort of thing. Ryan certainly seemed to let him know he was displeased and-or mega pissed off without saying a single word. He did it quite a bit, after all.

“Can you go be mad at me somewhere else?” Michael asked, voice muffled by the worryingly musty comforter. Wrinkling his nose, he turned onto his back instead. The look Ryan was giving him wasn’t encouraging. If he was human, that’d be bad enough, but Ryan hadn’t been human in maybe four hundred years. 

It was kind of difficult to nail down the specific differences between himself and Ryan - being the first vampire Michael had ever, if reluctantly, labeled as ‘decent’, and the first one that he didn’t try to kill on sight. But after working with him for long enough, he made a pretty good list of observations. 

For one, vampires didn’t need to breathe, but a lot of younger ones couldn’t quite kick the habit. Ryan, however, never breathed, or even moved more than he had to. No errant twitches, shifting of muscles. He didn’t even seem to blink that often. He could probably make a convincing statue, if he wanted. 

He was also too pale, too sharp. His jaw was nearly at a right angle for Christ’s sake, and the teeth. Michael knew Ryan was displaying them just to put him on edge. 

“I’m not mad,” Ryan said carefully, which was a complete lie. “I’m just…”

“Disappointed? Wow, sorry mom.” Michael said, smirk working its way to his face. Ryan’s glower intensified.

“Surprised at your own stupidity. I mean really, seeking out one of the fae - I thought hunters knew better!” 

“She had information,” Michael said with a shrug. “Remember? She said she thought I was pretty. It wasn’t that hard to get her to answer my questions, and it worked, didn’t it? Found the right artifact, got rid of those restless spirits, and no one got hurt. I don’t know why you’re so -”

“She could have captured you and brought you into her realm forever,” Ryan interrupted. His voice didn’t raise to the point of shouting, but it somehow managed to ring in Michael’s ears. He suddenly didn’t feel comfortable with the way he was laying down. He rolled to the side, putting his feet on the floor. He sat up straight. Ryan still towered over him.

“That fae wasn’t a threat to us, and you know it. She just wanted to get to know a human, remember? She barely even kissed me, I don’t think she -” He stopped, eyes roving back to Ryan’s face. “Wait. Are you jealous?” he asked. 

“Jealous.” Ryan practically spat the word back at him, teeth bared. “That’s the most presumptuous thing I’ve ever -”

“- Because, you know, I don’t think I’ve been able to pick anyone up since we started working together,” Michael said slowly. “You never seem to trust any of my old contacts, either.” 

“You get too set in your ways. And you’re too reckless about who you can trust.”

Michael licked his lips. “But I can trust a vampire?”

Another thing Michael noticed about vampires was how fast they could move. When they wanted to. Nearly in a blur, Ryan crouched in front of Michael, holding throat painfully tight in his hand. Michael’s heart jumped, his breath came in shorter pants, but he didn’t move as he looked into Ryan’s icy, too-blue eyes.

“I was the one who found you in that rotting plantation house, broken and bleeding to death,” Ryan said. His voice was even, like he was reading a script, but it made Michael shiver at the power in his tone. The back of his neck tingled. “I gave you my blood. I saved you. Do you know what that means?”

Michael swallowed. Someone had told him once that being a hunter and having a death wish meant the same thing. He smiled. “Makes me a ghoul, doesn’t it? Some fucked up half breed. Living, but not human, right?”

Ryan growled, fingers tightening around Michael’s throat, squeezing his windpipe. “It means you’re mine, Michael. And I don’t share.” They stared at each other, neither faltering or looking away. Michael could still breathe, somewhat, but he could just register black spots dancing around his vision. He wanted to cough.

Just before he did, Ryan let go. He pushed him backwards before he released him; the force was enough to send Michael back onto the mattress. He kept his eyes glued to the ceiling. A minute later he heard the door unlock, the vampire stepping back over the threshold, and the door slamming shut again. His chest rose and fell, rose and fell. His heart went back to a normal pace.

Slowly, Michael leaned up on his elbow, his other hand massaging his sore neck. There would be bruises tomorrow, and probably more words about team work and boundaries and other bullshit. But for now…

Michael stood up, checking that he had his wallet and the room key. He had spotted a bar a block away form the motel on their drive into town, and he wanted a drink. 

Ryan could act like the possessive sire all damn day, but if he wasn’t going to do anything about it, well. Michael had urges for more than just the vampire’s blood.


End file.
